Page 67 of Triumph of the Wolf
“It might not work if you throw it all up,” I told him, though I was sympathetic. I well knew how dreadful that potion was.
“You warned me,” Bolin rasped, “that drinking the Elixir of Locus would be unpleasant… but I didn’t realize it wouldhurtso badly.” He clutched his chest and staggered about. Tears leaked from his eyes, and his lips rippled with discomfort. “I may need an ambulance. Someone to like, I don’t know, vacuum pump this out of me.”
“Jasmine needs you to rescue her.”
“I’ll tough it out.” His contorted face suggested otherwise. “But I think I’m dying. You said there’d be some heartburn and tingling.”
“The tingling comes after the heartburn.”
Bolin put his back to the brick wall and groaned and writhed.
“Maybe Rue made this one stronger,” I said, starting to grow worried for him. Could something have gone wrong with the brewing of the elixir?
“Probably not.” Not appearing as concerned, Duncan offered Bolin a bottle of water, then fished out some chocolate-covered espresso beans. Similar items that he’d given to me to help washthe taste out of my mouth, but Bolin looked like more than his tongue was protesting the stuff. “Men aren’t as good at dealing with pain as women, you know. It’s a proven fact.”
“Is that so,” I murmured.
“Yup. On account of ladies having to endure childbirth.”
Bolin took the water and chugged it, threw the empty bottle at a dumpster, and then tossed back coffee from the cup.
“It makes them tough,” Duncan added. “Candy, Bolin?”
“I’d choke and die if I tried to eat those.” His words continued to come out raspy, and he shook his head. “The next potion I need to find people, I’ll learn how to make myself. There has to be a druid equivalent.” He drained the coffee cup. “A less painful druid equivalent.” He massaged his chest through his shirt and groaned again. “I can’t tell if it’s starting to tingle or that’s the feeling of my esophagus disintegrating. Do you think I might die before we can find Jasmine?” He writhed further against the wall.
“What’s the origin of the word esophagus?” I asked.
Duncan arched his eyebrows at the topic shift.
“It’s Greek.” Bolin wiped tears from his eyes. “Fromoiso, which meansto carry, andphagos, which meansto eat.”
“Phagos means that? Really? I can’t think of anywhere else I’ve heard that used.”
“Oh, please. It’s in lots of words.” Bolin bent double, gripping his knees.
Would he throw up? Our storming of a new compound wasn’t off to the solid start I’d envisioned.
“Like what?” I asked. “I bet you can’t name five.”
“You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m entirely ignorant when it comes to phagosry, and I need your help.”
“That’snota word.” Bolin gave me a scathing look. “Examples are phagophobia, phagocyte, necrophagous, oligophagous, and rhizophagous.”
“Maybe you can define some of those for me so I can work them into everyday conversations. I know you can at leastspellthem for me.”
“I don’t believe a wolf would wish to discuss necrophagy,” Duncan said, “but a vulture certainly would.”
Bolin wiped his eyes again and straightened.
“Do you know which way Jasmine and Izzy are yet?” I asked him.
“I think…” Bolin touched his chest and rotated toward the end of the alley. “That way.”
“Good boy.” Duncan offered the chocolate-covered espresso beans again.
This time, Bolin took a few. He drew a shuddering breath before chomping on them.
